


Assumptions

by Tyrrible



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, eivor is really good with kids and i cant get over it, they usually arent true, vili is a simp, vili makes a lot of assumptions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrrible/pseuds/Tyrrible
Summary: Eivor had a habit of breaking Vili’s heart. He didn’t think she’d ever meant it in a malicious way, or even that she’d always known it was happening. But it had happened enough times throughout his life that it couldn’t have been mere coincidence. Then again, he’d never done much to protect his heart, not where Eivor was concerned. So maybe it had been his own fault.ORVili breaks his own heart often because he makes a lot of assumptions about Eivor.
Relationships: Eivor/Vili Hemmingson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 120





	1. Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> The line about Eivor rocking Gunnar's kid to sleep to give Brigid a break has been living rent free in my head for weeks. At first I thought about writing this about Ubba, who canonically wants a bunch of little Ubbas, but I still have a lot of feelings about how dirty Ubisoft did Vili and Eivor. They deserved a better, more permanent arc. And it all just kind of fell together. So enjoy.

Assumptions

Eivor had a habit of breaking Vili’s heart. He didn’t think she’d ever meant it in a malicious way, or even that she’d always known it was happening. But it had happened enough times throughout his life that it couldn’t have been mere coincidence. Then again, he’d never done much to protect his heart, not where Eivor was concerned. So maybe it had been his own fault. 

The first time it had happened, he’d been around eighteen winters, and Eivor had just turned seventeen. At the time, Styrbjorn had been playing with the idea of marrying her off to strengthen the clan. Sigurd’s marriage had been a boon, but he hadn’t yet decided if Eivor’s hand or her axe arm would bring him greater riches. 

Hemming Jarl and Vili had been visiting Fornburg, to “discuss their alliance” with the Raven Clan. Vili had known then what his father hadn’t come out and said directly. They were discussing a match. They had to be. There really wasn’t any other explanation. 

Hemming had mentioned several times over the last season how he had noticed how close he and Eivor had gotten when she had visited to finish her training last summer. The tables of the trouble and antics they had gotten into that season were legendary among his clan. It made sense for his father to make a match for him that would be easy for him to find love in. Hemming had loved Vili’s mother dearly and wanted only happiness for his son. He was a good father. 

Vili had felt fireflies in his stomach each time he thought of the potential for a match with Eivor. He’d found, not really all that surprisingly, that he was excited for the news that would come. He’d imagined their future with visions of such great and shocking clarity - the raids that they would go on together, how they’d rule Hemming’s lands together one day, even how they’d raise their heirs to be strong vikingr - that they simply had to come true. 

Vili had been hunting outside the village, attempting not to be nervous while the clan leaders met. He didn’t really know what was going on in their meeting, had only assumed. He hadn’t even seen Eivor yet since he’d reached Fornburg, having been told that her ship wouldn’t return until sometime this afternoon. 

Vili had been lazily tracking a deer for a few hours, mind more on Eivor than the hunt if he were being honest with himself, when he’d reached a steep fjord overlooking the churning sea just south of Fornburg. He’d realized after an embarrassingly long time that the tracks he’d been following were no longer the stag’s, but human footprints that had walked lightly on the snow, graceful enough not to quite compact it under their weight. He only knew of one person with footfalls so light, and as he looked up to the edge of the cliff, he saw her. 

“Eivor!” He’d called with genuine joy in his voice, jogging the rest of the way up to his friend. It really had been a long time since he’d seen her last. 

“Vili?” Eivor had seemed shocked to see him. Perhaps his father had no longer been in the longhouse when she’d arrived. 

They’d talked for a while, catching up as old friends were want to do, before she’d told him why he’d found her gazing so angrily at the sea. While they’d talked, she’d busied her nervous hands with stacking stone cairns, something she only did when she was feeling really anxious. 

“Styrbjorn is thinking of marrying me off, you know,” she’d finally spat at him. “As if I’d ever submit myself to marriage and children. I have greatness to achieve, honor to reclaim. I can’t do that as a wife and mother. You get it, don’t you, Vili?” 

To this day he wasn’t quite sure if she’d known it was him who had nearly been promised to her and that had been her way of letting him down easy, or if she’d just been so appalled at the idea in the first place. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. 

That night, he’d pressured his father to follow the Ragnarssons and their Great Heathen Army to England until Hemming had reluctantly agreed. But he’d always wondered what might have been between himself and Eivor, had he faced her like a man, had he asked her to clarify, had he stayed in Norway. 

________________________________________

When he’d heard that Sigurd and Eivor had come to England and were making their way across the land, both killing and making kings in their wake, Vili had been bombarded by a multitude of emotions. He felt excitement and dread at the prospect of seeing her again in equal measure. He’d thought of her every day since he’d taken the coward’s way out and run from what he’d realized, in hindsight, we’re feelings of love. The thought of seeing her again renewed the fireflies that had danced in his stomach when they’d met as children. But it also filled him with great shame, a reminder of his cowardice. 

It wasn’t until nearly a year later that he’d finally met her again. He’d been nearly blindsided to see her, standing beside his father before battle as if she’d belonged there, and it had taken all of his courage to face her as if his heart hadn’t been singing and breaking in equal measure. 

He’d found out that it had been his traitor father who’d drafted a letter in his name to bring her to Snotinghamscire just before the old goat had died. And he couldn’t even be angry. It was very good to see her. And she was a strong ally to lean on in the dark days following Hemming’s death. 

Vili never did have much skill in self preservation, had always been a bit of a masochist, especially when Eivor was concerned. So he’d done what he, perhaps, should have done a decade prior and pledged himself to the Raven Clan, to her. Even if he’d hurt mildly at her constant platonic presence, he’d hurt less beside her than away from her. 

Then, that one beautiful night at Odin’s Hovel had been ... breathtaking, amazing, life-altering. There were too many feelings and not enough words in any language he knew. He’d thought that what had spilled from his mead-loosened lips had been his moment, the grand confession of his love for her and the beginning of their forever. 

Vili had worshiped Eivor that night, taking his pleasure from her and doling it out in equal measure. He’d tried to show her everything that had been in his heart all these years through his actions. He’d laid himself bare and had finally, in his mind, made love to her. He’d thought that, if her whimpers and keening cries of ecstasy had been anything to go by, she had felt the same about their coupling.

Then, she had called their lovemaking nothing more than a flickering flame as she had dressed. He’d been crushed but had been too much of a coward not to just go along with it and agree with her. He’d played the moment so many times in his mind that he was certain that the hardness in her eyes, as if she were trying to shield her own heart and hadn’t meant the words, were imagined. 

In the end, despite his better judgment, he’d still found himself following Eivor all across Midgard. He really was a glutton for punishment, and he could deny her nothing. No matter the cost to himself.

————————————————————————

Upon arriving in Ravensthorpe, the first thing that Vili noticed was not how welcoming the city’s people were, how at home he felt in this prospering, foreign village of the misfit and the misplaced, or how his new lodgings on the wharf were everything he’d ever wanted for himself and more. No, it was how the village children had run up, screaming “Eivor’s home!” 

He’d watched her, sore and battle-weary as she surely was, kneel down on aching knees to greet and embrace each of the little ones at their level with a smile and promises of tales from lands far away. She’d reached into her satchel and procured a trinket from her time in Snottingham for each of them and had laughed softly at their squeals of delight and thanks. He hadn’t even known she’d gathered the items, but each one was very obviously thought out with care for the child who received it. 

In that moment, Vili’s traitorous mind returned once again to his teenage fantasy of the heirs he might produce with Eivor, thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself to think in a long, long time. Clear as the day, he could see her kneeling down, teaching their son to wield his first axe, teaching their daughter her skill with a bow. He could see the way she would sit between their little child-sized beds and tell them tales of the days and nights on the longship and the sagas of the gods until they drifted off into the realm of dreams. 

He’d been knocked from his reverie as Sunniva had knocked a friendly shoulder into his and beckoned him to the warrior’s barracks. 

It was a silly dream, anyway. Eivor didn’t even want children and had told him as much when they were children. So it must still be true. 

————————————————————————

A few months into Vili’s service as a Raven Clan jomsviking, Sigurd had named Eivor as the rightful Jarlskona. The decision was shocking, but only because nobody had thought that Sigurd, in all his recent glory-crazed madness, would actually step down. It most certainly was not because she didn’t deserve it. 

There was nobody more deserving to be the Jarlskona of Ravensthorpe than Eivor Wolf-Kissed. Eivor had built Ravensthorpe from its very foundations up. The people loved her and respected her. She’d gotten their people resources, made them allies, and earned their trust. 

Eivor had earned so much trust, in fact, that, just a few months into her Jarldom, she’d even been the one to deliver Gunnar and Brigid’s child when Valka had needed to make a voyage back to Norway. Randvi, in all her great motherly wisdom, seemed to Vili to be the more natural choice for the endeavor, but Gunnar and Brigid had been very insistent that Eivor be the one to do it. 

To everyone’s even greater shock, they later found out that this wasn’t even the first babe that Eivor had helped into the world. Evidently, there was a woman on a mountain somewhere who had whelped a demigod under Eivor’s watch after their Jarlskona had carried her to the summit. Vili, naturally, wasn’t an authority on the ways of women in their birthing, but he hadn’t expected Eivor, who was the epitome of a woman who did not want the womanly things, of all people to be that much more knowledgeable than him in that regard. 

When the screams from the forge had ceased, the entire colony had waited outside with bated breath to greet their new kin, Vili among them. Perhaps it was only Vili, however, who had been surprised when it was not Gunnar, but Eivor, stripped down to her under tunic and leggings, who had stepped out of the building with the swaddled babe in her arms to introduce her to her clan. She was Jarlskona, after all, and the new parents were likely exhausted. 

He was blindsided, however, at the image of her holding the child, beaming with pride for the new addition to their clan. Mjolnir herself had settled in his gut, painful and electric, as he watched the proceedings. 

He knew it was stupid to hope or even to want, though he did, and badly. Eivor may be proud that their colony was growing, may have even enjoyed spending time with the settlement’s children whenever she could spare the time so their mothers could have even the slightest break, but she had said it herself so very long ago.

_“As if I’d ever submit myself to marriage and children. I have greatness to achieve, honor to reclaim. I cannot do that as a wife and mother. You get it, don’t you, Vili?”_

Even if somehow, by some striking of Freyja’s affections, Eivor could love him as he did her, she did not want to marry him, and she most certainly would not want to give him children. 

————————————————————————

Vili was broken from his thoughts of Eivor as the Jarlskona herself exited the blacksmith’s home and joined him on the docks. The settlement was silent, save for the crickets singing quietly and their soft breathing. 

“It’s late,” Eivor murmured, shoulder checking him gently, “Why are you out here brooding, arse-stick?”

“I could say the same to you, chicken drengr,” Vili sighed. He usually was able to lay all of the pain to the side when they were together, to simply enjoy the presence she still had in his life, but tonight he couldn’t shake the arrowhead lodged in his heart. 

“I was taking a shift helping Brigid with little Astrid so she and Gunnar could get some rest. The babe won’t quiet unless she is rocked constantly, and they’re exhausted.” 

Vili couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into his heart. He’d known that Eivor had been helping the couple often, had seen her outside the forge in the evening with the babe on her hip, performing the bouncing dance that came naturally to mothers everywhere as she rocked the child. Her voice had even been soft as she sang the same age-old lullabies he could remember his mother singing to him in his youth. It, too, had struck his heart with such deep longing that he’d had to go on a solo hunting trip to blow off some steam. They’d eaten the spoils of that hunt at the feast tonight. 

“Isn’t it below the Jarlskona to raise someone else’s child,” Vili groused, not really meaning it. No, it was the pain in his chest causing him to snap. 

Eivor seemed a bit taken aback and rose to leave him to his brooding. “It is my job to take care of my people, Vili, young and old. Though, I guess you wouldn’t really understand that, arse-stick.” 

The jab’s aim was true and struck him deeply. He’d left his own people to follow Eivor, a woman who would never love him, to Ravensthorpe. He wouldn’t know what it was like to be Jarl. 

“Wait!” Vili called before she could leave. “That was unfair of me. Please sit. Tell me about our littlest drengr.” He tried to smile, but it did not reach his eyes. He took a swig from the nearly empty flagon of lukewarm ale that had been sitting beside him. 

Eivor sat back down and looked at him oddly. “What is wrong, Vili? You haven’t been yourself in a long time, not since we arrived in Ravensthorpe after Hemming’s funeral. Do you not want to be here? I will absolve you of your oath if that is what you really want, but I know you aren’t happy.” 

Eivor always could read him like an open scroll, except for when it really mattered. 

“I don’t want to leave Ravensthorpe, Eivor,” Vili said softly, shaking his head. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Then what is it, Vili?” Eivor demanded, turning to face him fully, the moonlight bouncing off her features in an ethereal glow, as if she were a most beautiful valkyrie coming to take him from his misery. “It’s not like you to behave like this or to halt from speaking your mind. I am here as your very best friend. Not your Jarlskona. So out with it!”

Reaching across the short distance between them, Vili grabbed her behind the neck and pulled her toward him, crushing his lips against hers. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, whether it was the constant, intrusive thoughts of the past they’d shared, the present pains, or the future they would never have. He could always blame this on the mead that still tainted his lips when this inevitably went south. 

Except, it didn’t go south. Eivor went from rigid to pliant underneath him in seconds, as soon as she got her bearings. Her mouth met his with equal fervor, just as it had nearly a year prior at Odin’s Hovel. It was Vili who pulled back from shock, not that he had any right to do so. He’d been the one to kiss her, after all. 

All Vili could do for a long moment was stare at Eivor dumbly. He assumed that if he so much as breathed she either disappear like a wisp of smoke or attempt to murder him for his insolences. She did neither, once again proving him wrong.

“I did not think you still wanted me this way,” Eivor whispered, sounding unsure of herself. Vili wasn’t sure he understood.

“What?” he asked dumbly. 

“You got what you wanted from me, at Odin’s Hovel,” Eivor attempted to explain. “I did not think you’d wanted more than that.”

Vili was torn between betrayal and anger and joy and a thousand other emotions. 

“You did not think I wanted more?” Vili nearly spat at her, mead truly loosening his lips now. The dam was broken. “You were the one who called what we shared a flickering flame. And I still followed you all across Midgard because I’m a moron who’s been in love with you too long not to. Don’t presume to know what I wanted, Wolf-Kissed, when you were the one who snubbed out our flame.”

Eivor opened her mouth to reply, but Vili wasn’t in the mood to let her continue.

“Furthermore, I know what you’ll say. You don’t want a husband or children or to settle. I wouldn’t have made you. But I deserved the dignity of-” 

“Who said I don’t want those things?” Eivor exclaimed, cutting him off with the most absurd thing he’d heard all night. Maybe in his entire life. 

“You did!” Vili retorted, quieter than he wanted, aware that if they got into a shouting match, it would wake the village and be quite embarrassing. “You were the one who told me that you’d never marry or have children. Right after my father asked yours if you’d marry me!” 

That seemed to throw Eivor for a loop. “What? You were who Styrbjorn wanted to sell me off to? Is that what you were doing in Fornburg that day?”

“Would knowing that have changed your answer?” Vili asked, ever a glutton for punishment. 

Eivor was quiet for a moment. “No,” she answered honestly. “Not at the time. But we were seventeen, and all I wanted then was to kill Kjotve. It’s been a decade, Vili. A lot has changed, you thick-headed louse.” 

“Just tell me plainly of what you want, Eivor, because the flame that still burns within me is not a flickering one, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going as we have been.” Vili’s voice was pathetic to his own ears and he felt as if his whole world had started spinning rapidly, and he didn’t think it was from the mead. He was tired of this dance, and he wanted to know what she wanted with surety. 

“You,” Eivor said simply, looking into his eyes so he could see how honest she was being. “I want you, Vili, in whatever ways you’ll have me. If you’ll still have me.”  
‘  
Surely this had to be some fever dream, Vili thought. Everything he’d wanted so dearly for so long was coming to fruition and all he could do was stare into Eivor’s eyes, smitten like some mewling milksop. 

“Vili?” Eivor prompted when he’d been silent for too long. 

“Why, then, did you call us a flickering flame?” Vili blurted. It wasn’t what he’d intended to say, wasn’t _‘Yes. Gods, yes. Anything you want, my love.’_ but it was probably better that way. 

Eivor looked down, away from him, and no, he couldn’t have that. He used a gentle finger to tilt her head back up to face his confused expression.

“I didn’t think you’d wanted me like this, and I didn’t know if you’d be coming with me or staying as Jarl of Hemsthorpe.” Eivor answered honestly, “It had to be your decision and I couldn’t ask you to come with me just for love. So I gave you an out. After you agreed, I didn’t expect that you’d follow me. But you did.”

“It seems we’ve both made many assumptions of the other,” Vili said, surprisingly sagely for what he’d managed so far that evening. 

“Would you like to walk me back to the longhouse, Vili?” Eivor asked with a grin, standing. “So we can correct those assumptions?”

Vili stood and walked up the hill with Eivor. They walked in awkward silence for a few beats until Eivor took pity on him and took his hand in her own with a small smile. 

“I’m just me, Vili.”

He brought her hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss to the back of it. “You’re never just anything, chicken drengr.” 

As they walked, Vili felt the age-old fireflies return to the pit of his stomach and joy well up within him. This wasn’t a fever dream or a longing vision. This was happening. Finally. 

When they reached Eivor’s room in the longhouse, she led him inside before turning and closing the heavy doors behind them. He couldn’t remember ever seeing them closed, Eivor having long preferred to keep them open in case someone needed her in the night. 

Once the doors were sealed shut, Eivor turned around right into Vili’s arms as he crowded her back into them, forehead meeting hers while their breath mingled in the short space between them. He didn’t kiss her. Not yet. He needed to be sure they both understood what they were agreeing to should they continue. 

“I have waited a decade for you, Eivor,” Vili murmured between them. “If we continue, know that I will never stop loving you, that I intend to love you until the day we reach valhalla and beyond. This is not a flickering flame. It is a burning brazier. I want marriage and children and forever, Eivor, and one day I will ask you to grow fat and round with our child.” He closed his eyes before saying the next part, knowing that her answer might bring him his greatest joy or his deepest pain. “If you cannot agree to forever, send me away now. I will not hold it against you, but I will leave and attempt to heal. It is your choice.” 

Rather than answer with words, Eivor closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together in a searing kiss. Joy bloomed in Vili’s chest, his hugr singing with glee. She hadn’t sent him away, hadn't said no. She was his. 

Vili leaned into her, pressing their bodies together against the door. His hands gripped her wrists and pinned them to the ornate carvings beside her head and his hips pushed against hers, rutting slightly up into her. His lips left hers and trailed down, kissing the sensitive flesh of the scar on her neck, his teeth and beard scraping lightly. Moving to the other side, he suckled a possessive mark high on her neck, where it would be visible unless she kept her hood up. 

He took a sort of primal joy in the little whimpers he was able to coax from her just from this, knowing he was the one to make strong, sure Eivor whine and writhe against him. But Eivor was not a passive lover. Using her strength to break her wrists free, she used her hands to push Vili back just enough to pull the pin from the clasp at his throat and send his heavy cloak to the floor in a heap. 

Vili was able to undo the complex leather straps that held up Eivor’s cloak and shoulder pieces and divest her of it as well. Without the extra bulk of metal at her shoulders, she seemed so much smaller under him. She certainly knew how to use her armor and padding to seem larger, more intimidating. But here, in her quarters, she needed none of that. She was safe with Vili. 

Vili felt his abdomen twitch as Eivor’s ice-cold fingers found their way under his tunic to his stomach, pushing the fabric up and over his head. He laughed softly, the cold and slightly ticklish sensation making him step back a little and look at her. Eivor wasn’t having it, though, and stepped up into his space, his feet moving back of their own accord until his knees hit the edge of her bed and he sat upon it in just his trousers with a heavy thud. 

Eivor removed her own tunic and breast band with little ceremony. Vili had seen her nude a year previous, but the sight still made his breath catch. Though she was nearing twenty-seven winters to his twenty-eight, Eivor’s constant running about England had kept her functionally fit, with the majority of her muscle in her arms and chest and thighs while her hips remained just a touch softer than the rest of her, flaring out attractively from her waist. Vili, on the other hand, had put on a little weight since coming to Ravensthorpe, with all of their feastings. Though he still kept thick, ropey muscle, it was hidden a little by a layer of insulating fat that had actually given him no small edge against many enemies of smaller stature. 

Vili removed his own belt and shimmied out of his trousers and underpinnings before sitting back and motioning for Eivor to join him. And join him she did, skin meeting skin as she straddled his waist and kissed him deeply once more. 

Vili gripped Eivor’s hips and groaned as his fingers dug into the softness he found there. He twisted, flipping her around to her back, and followed her down. He braced his weight on one elbow while the other hand snaked up her body to palm at her breast, fingers reaching up to tweak the nipple. 

“Beautiful,” Vili murmured, watching her writhe up into his touch while she gasped his name. 

“Do not tease me, arse-stick,” Eivor hissed, panting slightly.

Vili laughed softly. “Calm, Eivor. If you think this is teasing, you’ll be begging by the time I’m finished with you, my love.” 

Vili used his substantially heavier weight to keep Eivor pinned to the furs while his mouth trailed down her neck to meet his hands at her breasts. He took the nipple not occupied by his fingers into his mouth and gave it a firm suck. She attempted to buck up into him, perhaps to unseat him and have her way with him, but only succeeded in shifting enough for his leaking cock to settle into the groove between her hip and thigh, rubbing against her soft skin. 

Vili bit into the soft bud in his mouth with a groan at the sensation, wrenching a high keen from Eivor’s sweet lips. He moved his hand down from her waist and dipped it lower and groaned when he found her dripping wet and soft between her thighs. 

“Mighty Eivor Wolf-Kissed, Jarlskona of Ravensthorpe. How wet you are for me,” Vili teased and circled his fingers around her clit, not quite touching it. He looked into Eivor’s eyes and brought his fingers back up to his own mouth to taste her. He groaned, licking up every last drop of her. 

“Vili,” Eivor growled. “Enough. If you don’t finish this soon, I swear to the gods, I’ll murder you while you sleep.”

Vili laughed lightly. “As you wish, Jarlskona.”

Shifting them slightly, Vili gripped Eivor behind the knees and bent her nearly in half before lining his cock up and sinking inch by inch into her warm, wet heat. As he seated himself within the tight grip of her body, something inside Vili clicked into places and he groaned soft nonsense into the hollow at her throat. Eivor was not a woman who needed to be complimented, but he found that he could not stop the words once they began. 

“Eivor, my love,” he whispered, beginning to thrust slow but sharp in and out of her, “You are so beautiful. Wanted you for so long. Gods, look at you, Eivor. Freyja herself could not be more perfect.” 

Eivor rocked up to meet each one of his thrusts, crying out each time he slammed home and shoved her further and further up the bed. 

“More,” she growled, “I will not break.”

Vili smiled tenderly down at her, his rocking keeping the same tempo. “I do not believe I will break you, my love. But tonight,” he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, “Tonight, I will take my time with you.”

Vili kept his pace slow, relishing in the cries and moans Eivor made, drowning in them. Eventually, when he knew he was close to spilling, he took pity on her writhing body and reached a hand down to rub his fingers at her clit. Eivor’s cries turned high-pitched and keening, and in seconds he could feel her walls constricting around him. He went to pull out of her to finish himself, but he was shocked when her hands found his rear and pulled him deeper into her. 

“Eivor, wait no. I’m too close,” Vili panted, trying to stave off his release until he could pull out, but Eivor just smirked. 

“Then come,” she ordered and used her newfound leverage to grind him deeper inside of her. 

With a deep grunt, Vili released himself into Eivor’s welcoming body. His vision whited out for a few long moments while he rode out his orgasm with short, tight thrusts. 

Vili collapsed to the side of Eivor and was careful not to crush her. He was feeling giddier than he had in his entire life. 

“More than a flickering flame yet?” he teased her, face split into a wide smile. 

Eivor threw a fur over him, rolling her eyes. “Do not flatter yourself, arse-stick.”

“That wasn’t a no,” Vili grinned, pushing the fur down below his face. 

“It wasn’t a no,” she acknowledged. 

————————————————————————

The next morning Eivor and Vili stumbled into the great hall to break their fasts. Randvi was at the table already, eating a piece of one of Tarben’s fresh loaves and looking more than a little exhausted. Vili had the decency to flush pink to the tips of his ears, but that didn’t stop him from sitting in Eivor’s seat at the head of the table and pulling her into his lap. 

“You are a possessive bastard, arse-stick,” Eivor told him, but it was good natured and familiar, and she leaned back into him. It pleased Vili greatly that Eivor was so casually affectionate in public now, uncaring that her people could see them. 

“And you are a beast in the morning, chicken drengr,” Vili retorted. 

“Randvi, I’d like you to speak with Rowan about preparing enough messenger Ravens for all of our allies today,” Eivor announced with absolutely no context before digging into her breakfast. Vili looked at Eivor in concern. 

“Why would we need all of our allies?” he asked. “Is there a threat coming?”

Eivor finished chewing her bite and shook her head. “No. But that is what is done when there is about to be a wedding,” she informed him. 

“A ... wedding? Brigid and Gunnar have already been married. Who else is getting married?” Vili asked, surprised. 

Eivor outright laughed at him. 

“Arse-stick, did you not tell me you wanted ‘marriage and children and forever’ just last night? It was a clear proposal. I knew you were thick in the arse, but I hadn’t realized you were quite so thick in the head.” 

Vili sat in shocked silence for all of a heartbeat before letting out a whoop of pure joy and pulling Eivor into a deep kiss, uncaring of all onlookers. 

To their credit, most of the drengr who walked in for breakfast to the sight of their Jarlskona and shield brother sharing a seat and kissing at the long table were less surprised than Vili had been. Sunniva collected several bags of silver from the other drengr, the winner of a long-running betting pool surrounding the couple. 

“It’s about time! Skal!” she called, raising a tankard despite the early hour. 

Vili finally pulled away - from his future wife - to glare at the mischievous drengr and made a rude gesture with his hands behind Eivor. 

————————————————————————

Vili and Eivor were married less than a season after the Jarlskona had announced their intentions to wed with a massive feast. It was the soonest that all of their allies could make the voyage to Ravensthorpe, which had nearly burst at its seams with all of the activity. They’d had to nearly double the size of the settlement with temporary housing for all of their guests. 

The feast that had followed the ceremony had lasted nearly a week. Nobody had been left hungry, bored, or sober. Despite the sheer quantity of Tekla’s ale that he’d imbibed, Vili remembered nearly every moment with so much clarity that he could still see Eivor before him - dressed in a ceremonial gown with flowers woven into her hair by the village children - if he closed his eyes and focused hard enough. She’d been radiant. 

They’d been wed nearing on three moons now, and a second throne had joined Eivor’s in the main hall of the longhouse. It seemed that Vili was destined to be a Jarl, despite it not being his father’s lands that he’d ruled in the end. Instead, he and his Jarlskona oversaw the citizens of Ravensthorpe jointly. They also often left Randvi in their stead while they wandered the English countryside, raiding the Saxons for supplies to keep their booming populous fed and housed. 

He was sitting on his throne now, having just finished overseeing a dispute between that damned artist Holger and Tekla, whose mead barrels had been the victim of another of the artist’s “projects.” Eivor had left him to deal with Holger’s antics, claiming that she had some “urgent business” with Valka that couldn’t wait. 

Of course, the woman had reappeared the second that he’d sent Holger on his way. 

“You’ve missed all the fun, my love,” Vili grinned, stepping up to bring her into his arms. “How convenient.” 

“Have I?” Eivor asked, oh so innocently. 

“How is the seer?” Vili asked, curious of this apparently urgent meeting between the Vӧlva and Eivor. 

“She is well,” Eivor said shortly, offering up no more and no less. 

“Is everything alright, chicken drengr?” She was being a little cagier than he liked. She must not have liked what the seer had to say. 

“I’m fine, arse-stick,” Eivor nodded. “Would you like to go on a ride with me today? Get out of Ravensthorpe for a while?” she asked, changing the subject suddenly. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere, my love,” Vili agreed. Hopefully, he’d get whatever nonsense the seer had spouted out of her on the trip. 

Vili had taken great care saddling both of their horses, waving Rowan off when he’d offered to do the task for him. Vili wasn’t usually any more superstitious than the average Norseman, but he had a feeling in his gut whatever had Eivor so fidgety was big and he wasn’t going to take his chances with something as simple as horse tack. 

Once they were both mounted up, Vili nudged his horse forward to follow Eivor’s in a leisurely trot on the road out of Ravensthorpe into southern Ledecesterscire. They didn’t go far, just up the mountain that shielded their settlement from the elements until they reached an old wooden watchtower, likely leftover from when the Ragnarssons had inhabited the area. 

Eivor dismounted her horse and left it to graze on the lush grass that surrounded them, and Vili followed suit. 

“I’ve always liked it up here,” Eivor said, sitting on the cliff that overlooked their settlement. “I can still see what is happening in Ravensthorpe, but it’s far enough that I can come here to think.” 

Vili stayed quiet, watching his wife, busy herself with stacking some nearby stones high and wide. He knew from their youth that she’d learned the practice from her mother and used it now and then to calm her mind when she had trouble settling her thoughts. He’d never been patient enough to manage more than two or three flat stones, but Eivor occasionally turned it into an art form, stacking the stones high and in such a way that should have been physically impossible for them not to go tumbling off the cliff. 

After half an hour of silence, Vili finally lost his patience and reached across the stone piles to still Eivor’s hands. 

“Will you tell me what has you building so many stone-men?” he asked, genuinely concerned at this point. 

Eivor took a deep breath and sighed. It wasn’t often that Eivor - strong, sure, confident, brash Eivor - was without words. Vili felt his heart beating faster, anxious in his chest, waiting with bated breath. 

“I missed my last moon-bleed,” Eivor whispered, quiet enough that it took a moment for the words to reach Vili’s ears and a moment longer for him to process what she’d said. 

Vili tried hard not to get his hopes up at her words. They hadn’t been very careful, but they hadn’t talked about this, either. Was it something she’d even want? And there were other reasons, illness, stress, injury… He’d done a lot of assuming in his life, fucked a lot of things up because of it. This wasn’t something he wanted to get wrong. 

“I see,” Vili said, carefully neutral. He didn’t dare move a muscle. “And the Vӧlva? What did she have to say about it?”

Eivor smiled at him and nodded, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her still flat stomach. He hadn’t noticed that she’d foregone her armor until now. 

“It’s still very early,” Eivor told him. “There are no guarantees that it’ll stick. Not with the life we lead. But for now, at least…”

“For now?” Vili breathed, fingers pushing gently into her as if they could feel the evidence of what was happening below them, though he knew it was impossible. Not yet.

“I am with child,” Eivor confirmed. Vili would deny the tears that escaped his eyes at the confirmation until his dying day. 

“I didn’t want to assume,” he smiled, so wide it creased his eyes and made his cheeks ache. “But I am… I have never been happier in my life. Save for the day you married me, of course.”

Eivor grinned. “Just this once, I think your assumptions might be alright, arse-stick.”

Vili faked a heartbroken expression. “You mean you did bring me up here to sacrifice me to the gods to keep enemies away from Ravensthorpe?” 

Eivor shoved him lightly and rolled her eyes. “I stand corrected. Your assumptions really are awful.”


	2. Looking Forward Into the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scenes from Eivor's pregnancy. Brigid is a bacraut oathbreaker. Randvi won't let Eivor do dangerous things. Vili is an absolute SIMP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: The word "fat" to describe a pregnant belly. Among other things. But Vili means it in literally the best way possible. Again, he's a simp. Pregnancy sex at the end.

Looking Forward into the Future

For the first few weeks, Eivor did her best not to worry about the news Valka had given her, the life that was apparently growing inside of her. It didn’t feel real at all. There was absolutely no proof yet, save for the horrendous nausea that plagued her not just in the morning, but throughout the entire day. Brigid had been a bacraut oathbreaker when she had, through Gunnar’s translations, sworn to Eivor that the sickness would subside by the time the sun hit its zenith each day. 

Eivor, for perhaps the first time in her life, wanted nothing more than to laze all day in the nest of furs on her bed. However, she’d been determined to push through. She kept bowls and pots strategically around the longhouse and the settlement and did her best to be discreet when the nausea inevitably turned into heaving. 

Though she hadn’t told anyone besides Vili, Randvi, and Gunnar and Brigid, she knew that the rumors of her condition had been flitting around Ravensthorpe for at least a week. Tarben, gods bless him, had been leaving crusty bread on her bedroom desk and Her drengr, though, were put off by her icy glare every time they even so much as thought of asking her or, gods forbid, tried to approach her while she was giving up her innards. 

Eivor had done her best to keep being the strong, battle-hardened, involved leader her people needed her to be, pretending that nothing had happened. Vili, however, had other ideas. She’d not been out of his sight for more than a few fleeting moments each day. The great oaf had followed her around like Halfdan’s great hound, ready to bite the head off of anyone who dared to so much as look at Eivor the wrong way. It was simultaneously very sweet and a little insulting. 

For as annoying as Vili’s doting could become for Eivor, who was more than used to her independence, she did appreciate him. Each time she made sick, Vili held back her braid and offered her the cocktail of herbs Valka had prescribed to settle her stomach. It rarely helped much, but the gesture was kind. 

More than once, in the beginning, Eivor’d had to threaten Vili’s manhood to get him to give her even a moment’s peace. She understood his concern. She shared similar fears, though she’d be damned if she’d ever speak of them. Valka’s warning not to get her hopes up for the interim weighed heavily on her, and she’d taken to having Tove paint symbols of Freyja on her torso every few days in the hopes that the goddess would be with her. 

-:-

Following those first absolutely miserable weeks that stretched into several moons, Eivor’s stomach had finally settled. She began occasionally practicing her skills with Hytham’s dummies to keep herself occupied with her renewed energy, putting back on some of the muscle weight she’d lost from the weeks of constant retching. Vili had tried to stop her, but she assured him that she’d be fine. She wasn’t sparring with any of her men anymore, and the dummies posed her very little danger. 

When the brick hard feeling of nausea deep in her gut had gone, it was replaced by a profound soreness to her chest and gentle quickening that made her pause, unsure of the sensation. It wasn’t the forceful kicking of a mad drengr as other women in the settlement had described it. It was akin to a tiny hummingbird’s wings, best as she could describe. 

Now, Eivor was standing at the edge of the dock with her hand placed gently on her lower belly, now just slightly curved under her palm and alight with fluttering that only she, so far, could feel. She was watching her ship grow larger on the horizon as it neared the settlement. She hadn’t been pleased when Vili had, with Rollo’s plan and Birna’s optimistic urging, left her in Ravensthorpe while he went aviking. She was itching for a fight and had tried to reason that her armor would protect them, but Vili had been rightfully insistent. 

“Is this what it was like all those years, waiting for Sigurd and I?” Eivor inquired of Randvi, who stood beside her, waiting for their men beside her closest friend. At one time, Randvi would’ve been waiting for her husband, but Eivor wasn’t quite sure who her friend was waiting for now, eyes alight with excitement. She’d have to pay closer attention.

Randvi laughed a little. “It is similar, I imagine,” she murmured, thoughtful. “Though I doubt it will remain as permanent a situation for you as it has been for me. Somehow, I do not believe you will ever become a table-maiden.”

“If Vili had his way, maybe,” Eivor scowled. “But you’re right.” Then, she grinned, coming up with an idea.

“You know, Randvi,” Eivor continued in a conspiratorial tone. “Sigurd isn’t Jarl anymore. I am. You’d make a fine warrior yourself with a little honing. I’ve seen you wield your hammer like a wildling. If we’re both stuck here, I might as well train you.”

Randvi rolled her eyes. “After, I will take you up on your offer. After,” she agreed firmly, turning her attention back to the longship. It was gaining detail rapidly. It wouldn’t be long now. 

When the longship arrived, it was with chests of silver and planks of fresh lumber filled the spaces between the vikingr at the oars. It looked to be a good haul, something to boast about. But Eivor couldn’t find it in herself to care about the haul. 

She had eyes for only Vili. Her husband was standing proudly at the sternpost, the place where Eivor usually was, guiding them home with a proud grin. His tunic and heavy cloak were discarded in the English summer heat and his muscles gleamed in the river-spray and the sunlight. The fluttering in her stomach intensified, the babe sensing her excitement. 

“Oh shut up,” Eivor grunted, fingers pressing into her stomach and circling.

Vili, of course, noticed the motion immediately and jumped off the ship to the dock before it had even fully sidled up to the pier. He stepped up to Eivor with long strides before bringing her into his arms, his hand covering hers.

“Are you alright? Are you both alright?” Vili murmured with quiet urgency. If anything, the movement intensified, rather than calming down, as Eivor looked up at him. 

“We are doing well,” Eivor smiled and, not minding that they were still on the pier with all of their men watching, reversed their hands, pressing Vili’s fingers in deep. She wasn’t sure it would work. Up until then, he hadn’t been able to feel the flutters she’d described. It took a few seconds for Vili to realize what was happening, but when he did, his face lit up like the sun. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Vili asked, excitement tangible in his voice and his face. He’d learned the hard way how to ask Eivor for confirmation and stop making assumptions of Eivor. 

“Our little drengr,” Eivor nodded, glad that she wouldn’t have to see his sunny expression fall into storm clouds, and Vili dropped to his knees, pressing his ear to her as if he could hear the second heart beating within her. Eivor’s hands went into his short-cropped hair as the drengr exited the boat and circled them with curiosity. 

Randvi, who was still standing beside Eivor, placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s time to tell them. Officially.” 

Eivor knew that the gentle curve would only grow larger until she felt like a whale and that she wouldn’t be able to keep her condition unmentioned for long. Many had quietly assumed, but Eivor had done nothing yet to confirm their suspicions. She knew there was little reason not to, now that it had been long enough to be more than sure. The clan would not only be supportive, they would be elated. She wasn’t just a Raven Clan drengr now, she was Jarlskona. This babe, and their birthright to her own position in the clan, would bring about the future of their entire clan. It was more than a little pressure.

Taking a deep breath, Eivor tugged gently on Vili’s hair to pull him back up to stand beside her. 

“My friends!” Eivor began, slipping her hand into Vili’s, “Hearken to me, for I have happy news to share with you all! In this last year, I have had the joy and honor of being your Jarlskona. During that time, we have known a period of great peace and prosperity thanks to our many allies and the hard work all of us have put into this clan. And now, we look to the future- the future of the Raven Clan, of Ravensthorpe, of England herself! And it is a bright future, a legacy worthy to be inherited by the next generation. And now, Vili and I are happy to announce that we can all look forward to welcoming that next generation for our clan.”

The clan immediately broke into cheers and congratulations. They made their way up the hill to the longhouse, intent on throwing a feast to honor Eivor and Vili and the future of the clan. 

As the night wore on, Eivor found herself watching her clan with great pride, sipping not on mead but on water. It was a rare joy to see her men so hedoned without the fog of alcohol clouding her own mind. Eventually, Vili came and wrapped his arms around Eivor from behind, hands going to the swell of her belly, which had calmed. 

“I’m so proud to call you mine, my love,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear and making shivers zing up and down her spine.

Eivor leaned back into Vili’s comfortable embrace. It had been a long road between them to get to that point in their lives, and she was determined to enjoy him. 

-:-

By the time the harvest came, Eivor’s gentle curve had become a very pronounced roundness. She didn’t complain much, even as her center of gravity shifted and pulled at her joints. It wasn’t in her nature to do so, but he could tell that she was uncomfortable in the way that she moved, in the grunt as she stood from her throne, quiet enough that only he, being next to her, was privy to. 

The near imperceptible fluttering had also turned into kicks at his hands that made Vili grin with pride. The little one would surely be a strong vikingr, with the way he or she battered their mother’s insides. He could only imagine what it felt like from Eivor’s end, what strange seidr happened within her body. It was his favorite thing to place his hand above the child and let them kick and kick. 

At night, when the battering seemed worse and Eivor struggled to find sleep, he had taken to gently stroking over the taut flesh separating him from his child and speaking to them. He spoke both in Saxon English and his native Nordic tongue, crafting stories of his and Eivor’s youth so that the babe might know him upon their first meeting. 

Despite his wife’s insistence that his voice might traumatize the child, Vili had sometimes sung to it as well. When he did, they were old songs, tales of the gods passed down through the generations in verse. For many of them, he had vivid memories of his own father singing, he and Eivor bedded down on opposite sides of the room while Hemming did his best to get the two wildlings to sleep and give him a moment of peace. And sometimes, both he and Eivor found themselves choked with memories of Hemming, who would have so loved to have met his grandchild. 

During the day, Eivor walked about Ravensthorpe, staying as busy and helpful as anyone would allow her, in a way that reminded Vili of the sea lions that dotted the beaches of the northeast. He had too much sense to say as much to her, however. Vili did his best to prevent Eivor from overexerting herself, but she was a force to be reckoned with when she set her mind to something, and she was determined not to appear weak or unhelpful to their community. Especially the warriors. 

It was odd for Vili to see Eivor without armor during the daytime. She was a warrior through and through, and as such, she was always prepared for an attack. Now, though, she’d taken to wearing loose tunics, sometimes even stealing one of Vili’s old ones, over cloth breeches. He had to admit, it was an attractive look, even if she’d never believe him. 

In fact, Vili didn’t think he’d ever been as attracted to Eivor as he had when she’d been helping some other clan members raise a new silo to store the abundant crop that Ravensthorpe’s soil had provided them. She was heavily pregnant, in another of Vili’s old tunics and a wolf-pelt cloak, panting from exertion that would never have phased her before. 

He’d attempted to help her carry the baskets of heavy shingles, but she’d snarled something about not being a useless whelp that he was too distracted by her lush mouth to fully process. He’d put his foot down, however, when she’d wanted to climb up to the top of the half-built silo, her wrath be damned. 

“Eivor!” Vili called, striding toward the woman when he realized her plan. “Don’t even consider it, woman!” 

“Fuck off, Vili!” She called back, annoyed. “I’ll be fine. I’m a better climber than anyone here!” 

“I’m sure that is true,” he tried to placate her, grabbing her arm and gently tugging her away from the rickety, half-assed scaffolding. 

“It’s got to get up there somehow,” she tried. He knew that she was bored out of her mind, always sitting on the sidelines lately, and he tried to be a little contrite for his part in it, but he wasn’t having it. 

“No, Eivor. Let me go, instead.” At the look of ire on her face, he tried again. “If you slipped and something happened to you or the babe, I would not recover,” he said gently, low enough that it was only for her ears. 

Finally, she sagged into him, defeated, with a groan. He wrapped his arms around her, offering her what support he could from the position. He was able to feel her arse against his front and, of course, the swell of her belly and hips in his hands. He nosed at the sensitive, scarred flesh below her ear in the way he knew made her a little wild for him. 

“Come back to the longhouse with me,” he grinned, nipping gently at the flesh. He reveled in the way she arched against him. “I could rub your back and we could see where it leads?” He pressed his thumbs to the knots at the base of her spine to emphasize his words. 

Eivor groaned softly, pressing back into the pressure, but rolled her eyes. “You cannot possibly want to plow me now, Vili. You have turned me into a fat sow.”

“Can I not?” He murmured lowly, pulling her hips back into his so she could feel the half-hardness he’d been dealing with all day as he’d watched her. Eivor bit her lip and a sharp breath escaped her, and he could tell she was weighing her options.

“Fine,” she eventually sighed. “If only for you to remove the tenseness from my spine.”

Vili smirked, “Whatever you must tell yourself. I will take these shingles up, and I will see you in our room in a few minutes.” 

When Vili made it up the hill to join Eivor, he found her sitting on their bed, struggling to remove her own boots, her heavy belly in the way of her reach. He knelt down beside her and gently knocked her hands away, undoing the laces himself and pulling it off. 

His fingers pressed gentle circles into her ankle and the arch of her foot, which were swollen and angry. He smiled as she groaned in relief and laid back, content to let him care for her in a way that always both surprised him and filled him with great joy. She wasn’t someone who trusted anyone enough to let her guard down this way often, but he was glad that she showed this part of herself to him behind closed doors. 

After making sure that the first ankle was sufficiently massaged, Vili removed her second boot and paid the same attention to the other foot. He took great delight in the way she flexed the aching muscles against him, both overly sore and relieved at the pressure. 

Eventually, satisfied that he’d helped her ankles as much as he could, he stood, ignoring the creak in his knees from being on the hard floor. He sat beside her on the bed and bent to place a gentle kiss on her lips. 

“Sit up, my love, and remove your tunic. I will do the same for your spine,” Vili smiled. He helped support her as she sat up and helped her remove the garment. 

“I am not helpless, Vili. I can take off my own tunic.”

“I know,” he answered gently. “But you do not have to.”

Vili repositioned her to sit between his spread legs with his back pressed to the headboard to support them both. He used his strong hands to work the tight knots that ran the length of her spine, underneath the tattoos that followed the same pattern. Her lumbar was especially tense from supporting the growing weight of her stomach and she moaned and arched against him when he reached it. 

“Careful, my love,” he growled against her ear but provided deeper pressure with his hands. “I do not want to take advantage of you before I have finished relaxing you.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eivor’s head dropped back to rest on his chest, and she wriggled purposefully. 

“Do not test me, woman,” Vili grunted softly and pushed his hips up against her. He was doing his best to focus on relieving the tension in her back, but her new position against his chest gave his view a straight line down to her breasts. They had swelled much larger throughout her childbearing, and she’d stopped binding them as often or as tightly now that they weren’t getting in the way of her fighting. They rested on the large curve of her belly, where her skin was stretched taut as a bowstring. 

Vili knew that Eivor hadn’t felt her most attractive in months. She’d told him as much. But to him, she’d never been more beautiful. She seemed to glow in the afternoon sun spilling through the slats of the window, a powerful goddess in her own right. 

Vili’s mouth found Eivor’s neck, sucking kisses along the pale column. He moved his hands lower toward her hips and let his thumbs continue seeking and pressing into the knots he found. He was determined that Eivor’s comfort would come first, regardless of her needy sighs and tempting movement. 

“Vili,” Eivor sighed, and the way she spoke his name with a hitch in her voice was the sweetest music to his ears. He knew that she did it on purpose, but he’d be damned if it didn’t work. “Husband, I thank you, but I am relaxed enough.”

Vili huffed a laugh against her neck and bit down gently. “Is that so, my love? Should I return to the silo and let you rest?” 

Eivor’s head whipped around and she trained her glare on him. “Only if you want to wake tomorrow morning missing your stones.”

“Hm,” Vili pretended to consider his options, “I think you’d miss them more than I would. But I wouldn’t want to deprive our child of siblings. I shall stay, I suppose.”

“You are a horse’s arse, Vili Hemmingson,” Eivor laughed. He watched and felt her start shifting around, her calculating gaze looking all around the bed. Each time she began to move, she quickly aborted the motion with a shake of her head. 

“Can I help you, my love?” Vili asked through a smirk, hands coming to rest at her hips to still her. 

Eivor huffed a suffered sigh. “I want you inside of me,” she groused bluntly in what he considered to be a very Eivor-ish manner, “but cannot think of a single position that will work.”

“I can think of many,” Vili laughed heartily now, “but I will need your trust.”

“You have it. Always,” she murmured seriously, reaching her head around to kiss him gently. 

Vili smiled into the kiss, heart fluttering as it did the very first time she had kissed him, what felt like a lifetime ago. 

Supporting her from his position behind her, Vili helped Eivor to heave herself off of the bed so that he could finish undressing the both of them. He pulled down her breeches quickly and efficiently before removing his own. He was too tired of waiting for her to draw it out much longer. Helping her back onto the bed, Vili laid her on her side and sidled up behind her. 

“You are the most beautiful goddess,” he whispered, kissing at the nape of her neck as his hand came into the soft underside of her knee and tugged upwards. He pulled her knee up and to the side of her stomach to rest on her chest, exposing her dripping wetness to the cool autumn draft. 

“Are you comfortable here?” He asked, taking her hand and moving it to replace his to keep her open for him. 

“I am fine, Vili. Get on with it.” Eivor nudged her head back into his softly, taking over the hold on her knee willingly, and he grabbed a fluffy pillow and wedged it under her leg to help support her. 

Much as Vili wanted to tease her, to take it slow and patient and gentle, he knew that he didn’t have much control remaining. He wanted her more than his next breath, wanted to fill her up until she was begging and writhing and keening for him. He cock lay fat and leaking against the thigh of her straight leg.

Reaching down, Vili grabbed his length tight around the base and guided the swollen purple head to her sex. He growled at the warm wetness he found there and pushed in, firm and steady until his cock was seated to the hilt within her, basking in the choked gasp she gifted him in response. Gods, she was tight around him. He could feel her inner muscles twitching and gripping as she adjusted to the stretch and burn.

Replacing her hand at her knee with his own once again, Vili used it as leverage and began to roll his hips in short, insistent thrusts. At this angle, he couldn’t go as deep as he normally might, but judging from Eivor’s punched-out breaths and whimpering cries, the angle was more than satisfactory. Spurred on by her litany of cries, Vili rocked into her harder, faster. With each powerful thrust of his hips, he drove Eivor mad, pulling louder, higher sounds from her lips.

“Vili, Vili, Vili, Vili!” It was the only word the Eivor could remember when his hand released her leg and dropped down to tease his fingers at her clit. He pinched and rolled the firm nub in time with his thrusts. He could feel the change within her with each pass of his fingers, her walls clamping tighter around him, matching the increasing tightness in his balls as they slapped wetly against her rear. 

“Let go, Eivor,” Vili demanded, breath hot on her ear. And with one final, breathy keen, Eivor was helpless but to obey, tightening around him in a vice grip. It forced him to slow his movements, helping her ride out the aftershocks. Her walls milked him, and he was shaking with need but he held back, intent on helping Eivor through her orgasm until she was sated. 

When the shocking shudders finally ceased, Eivor, in what was perhaps the quickest and most coordinated movement Vili had seen from her in weeks, managed to pull away, turn around and press him onto his back. She moved up to straddle his thighs and reached forward to take his angry red cock in hand. 

Pressing his feet flat to the mattress, Vili arched up with a long moan, attempting to push into the tight circle of her hand, slicked by her own wetness. Her second hand cupped and squeezed at his tight bollocks, just this side of painful. 

“Gods, Eivor!” Vili moaned, desperately chasing his release in her hands. He was so close. So close. Then, the hand around his stones reached down below them, to the tight strip of skin between his bollocks and arse. 

With one firm knuckle, she pressed pressed up, up, up, other hand never slowing, and Vili’s vision went white. With a deep groan, he found his release, tick, white ropes of his spend launching up to splatter beautifully on Eivor’s chest. When his senses finally came back to him, the viscous fluid had dripped down, pooling in the valley between her breasts where it met his stomach. 

Eivor’s hand found its way to the mess, and with a lip-bitten smirk, she pressed it into her own skin, staking his claim for him. He almost came a second time just from the sight, and another weak spurt sluggishly dripped down his own cock. 

Vili collapsed back, dazed eyes finding the ceiling as he caught his breath. Eivor grabbed the nearest cloth, his tunic, to wipe away the drying mess before returning to lay against him. He immediately enveloped her into his arms and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. 

“Sleep, my love. I will still be here when you are rested,” he said gently, fingers ghosting gently up and down her spine.

When Eivor’s soft snores reached his ears, Vili finally let sleep claim him as well. And in his dreams, he saw bright visions of the future rapidly coming to meet him. Their child would be here within the next moon cycle, and he was ready to meet this next era of his saga with wide eyes and a sunny smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this multi-chapter rather than a series of one-shots. It should be generally linear because that's how my brain works. Next chapter, I plan for there to be a birth and a very happy and exhausted pair of new parents leaning on their community for support. Maybe some mama-bear Eivor? I've decided that I like this well enough that I might figure out a more overarching plot arc but I haven't gotten that far yet. If there are things you'd like to see, I am very open to suggestions!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think. Your comments truly give me the serotonin boost I need to get through the day.

**Author's Note:**

> And there it is. Please let me know what you thought. If there's enough interest (or honestly maybe just for myself) I might make this a series and add some slices of life to deal with my many feelings around this pair and how Eivor just really really loves every child she meets.


End file.
